


Survival

by klismaphilia



Series: Darkfics/The Fucked Up Reality In My Head [1]
Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: DEAL WITH IT, Death, M/M, Smut, idk what this is, random shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klismaphilia/pseuds/klismaphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Please...just awhile longer." Town of Salem, Serial Killer x Lookout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mechayourown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechayourown/gifts).



> Serial Killer needs to quit fucking around with everyone. God. Not to mention the stabby-rip-stab-stab. Rude. On that note...this isn't exactly sickening like my other SK fic is...just...average. Oh, but SK wins. As per usual.

The lookout was trembling as his feet tracked trails through the snow towards the dimly lit house, eyes bloodshot and nose running slightly, his lips chapped and swollen. He knew- oh, he knew, there was no mistaking it anymore. The man who lived in the quaint house near the town square was a monster- a serial killer. Night after night, he'd watched as the stranger went out, and night after night he came back, alone, pulling latex gloves off his long fingers, gloves that were caked in blood.

He didn't know what had driven him to return; every night he did, and he would watch the serial killer through the window of his house with grim fascination. He'd watch as the man washed up, peeled off his coat, and placed a single object on his dresser- the escort's ring, the jailor's key…

It was no different this night; he sat still, camped in the bushes underneath the high window, the blinds, as usual, completely open. The man was inside, pacing across wooden floorboards, before pulling shoes onto his narrow feet and swinging toward the door. The lights flickered, but there wasn't any noise; no sound to indicate that the door had even opened, much less that anyone had left the house. The lookout allowed himself to relax, his hands buried in the snow to keep from making a noise in case the killer were to somehow hear.

Then, he felt fingers on the back of his neck, the skin prickling, hair standing on end. "Hello, there," came the voice, deep and smooth, like rich chocolate. The lookout couldn't bring himself to turn his head, instead staying entirely still and entirely quiet. "What are we doing out here on a cold night like this?"

I-I was…" the lookout fumbled for words, before a slight cough left his mouth, hand covering it as he spluttered.

"You were what?" The serial killer questioned, hefting the man to his feet by the collar of his grey jacket, arm curling around his stomach. "You were…looking for me? I've seen the footprints in the morning," he said, pausing. "I knew you'd been watching me." The lookout heaved, trying to gain some breath again, trying desperately to ignore the serial killer's arm braced around him and the hand grasping hold of his wrist. "Cat got your tongue? It's alright, dear, you don't have to say a word."

"I know what you are," the lookout managed, trying to wrench his hand from the killer's grasp. "I know…but I won't say anything. Let me go, please. I promise I won't talk."

"Let's take a walk, shall we? I've been aching to see your place for awhile- you don't mind, do you?" The serial killer's hand tightened on the skin of the lookout's wrist, hearing the shorter man breathe out heavily.  
________________________________________

"You're going to kill me," the lookout finally managed, his back pressing against the wall as he tried to maneuver away from the serial killer. "I knew you...please, I promise I won't say anything. Not a word."

"Why don't I trust you?" The serial killer asked, hands buried inside the pockets of his coat, causing the lookout to eye him warily, waiting for the knife to be pulled forth, or perhaps a gun. "I have to admit, you're smarter than the rest of this town, to have figured me out so soon." The lookout breathed, shallow, his hands pressing against the wall behind him, eyes closed tightly. "Too bad intellect doesn't shelter you from death," the man added as an afterthought, watching the lookout turn, unbuckling his jacket, the fabric of the shirt underneath rumpled, sweat evident on his brow.

"If there's anything- I could...get you tea, if you'd like. Show you my binoculars...you could..."

"You're trying to unbalance me, give yourself some time...it won't work, dear." The serial killer said, his hand brushing up against the side of the lookout's arm, other hand grabbing for the knife in his pocket.

"I love you," the lookout gasped, feeling the cold touch of the serial killer's gloves on the inside of his elbow, his eyes shut tightly. "I'm not going to say anything...because I love you. You can trust me. Please," he said again.

"You're implying that you have feelings for me?" The serial killer questioned, amused.

"Why else would I watch you for so long without a word to anyone? It was...for my own enjoyment. I hoped you'd find me...I thought that maybe..." his fingers twiddled against each other, second hand moving to rest on that of the other man's, still grasping his arm enough to cause an angry bruise.

"Prove it," the serial killer said, knife still in his pocket for the time being. The lookout tilted his head to the side, turning enough that his eyes met the killer's, pale blue against dark brown. Instinctively he licked his lips, before hesitantly pressing them against those of his captor, allowing his eyes to momentarily close as the serial killer relinquished grip of his arm. The taller man's hand moved to caress the side of the lookout's face, tongue delving into his open mouth, swirling around his own and grasping at the inside of his cheeks. The lookout's hand fisted in the serial killer's hair as the latter's hand slipped down to trace the curve of his hipbone.

"Please," the lookout said, arching his back so that his chest was flush against the killer's, head pressed into the crook of the man's neck.

"You're eager," the serial killer noted, feeling the lookout's arms curling around his neck.

"I've just...wanted you for a long time," the lookout murmured, lie springing to his lips easily. The serial killer's hands slipped past the waist of his pants, cold against his warm flesh, the mere touch causing the lookout to tremble. "I-I..." he stammered, unable to form a sentence as the serial killer's hand cupped him through the thin fabric of his underwear.

"Do you still want me?" The serial killer asked, lips curving into a light grin.

"Yes," the lookout replied, eyes wide as his back shook. "Yes, I...I want you." A hand slipped from his waist, wrapping around his arm, tugging him backward and forcing him down on the small bed in the corner of the tiny house. “Please…” he said again, hands tugging at the serial killer’s wrists. The murderer’s eyes lit up at the fear in those of the other man, whose hands trembled as he slid the serial killer’s jacket away from strong arms.

“Are you scared?” The serial killer whispered, breath hot against the lookout’s now bare skin, seeing the man’s eyes widen before closing tightly.

“N-no…I’m not…” came the reply, almost muted despite the quiet of the room.

“You’re terrified,” the serial killer replied, thumbs digging into the lookout’s ribs as he fastened his mouth against the salty skin of the man’s neck. The lookout said nothing, his eyes shut tightly, praying for it to be over already. He clenched his teeth, trying to hold back the whimper as the serial killer’s fingers brushed over the inside of his thighs, needling them apart slowly, hand brushing against the underside of the lookout’s length, causing the man to let forth a light moan. He bit down on his lip in embarrassment, eyes avoiding making any contact with those of the serial killer as the long fingers teased, thumb squeezing his tip slightly, the lookout’s eyes opening wider as he felt the serial killer’s tongue trailing down his flat stomach.

It was a few brief seconds before the serial killer was taking the lookout into his mouth, his tongue rolling around the other man’s girth, causing a moan so slip from bitten lips, the serial killer’s hand pressed against the skin of his hip, slowly curving around to his back, lightly prodding the skin before slipping inside of the lookout’s tight ring of muscle. The lookout’s hand fisted in the serial killer’s hair at the intrusion, sudden and sharp, his body already attempting to resist. The serial killer laughed, a small sound that reverberated in the lookout’s body, causing his hands to clench into fists as he tried to keep his heavy breathing under the control.

The serial killer slid a second finger into his wary partner, the lookout’s body shaking as he did so, wanting nothing more than to wrench the serial killer’s hands away from him. The ministrations were shockingly welcomed though, and as the killer prodded him, he suddenly found his head falling back, the man’s humming doing nothing but causing a string of groans to spill from the lookout’s pursed lips. The serial killer had all the power- and he knew it, tugging his pants down over thin hips, before climbing on top of the lookout, hands pinning aching wrists to the bed as he trailed his tongue across the lookout’s mouth, pulled into a straight line. The serial killer laughed.

“Don’t be that way,” he started. “Open up for me, won’t you?”

The lookout’s head was tilted back, serial killer’s tongue pressing against the corners of his mouth before slipping through with a groan. The lookout’s hands fumbled, eventually resting themselves on the killer’s shoulders, not entirely sure what to make of the situation. He could feel the serial killer’s cock pressing against his opening, and all too soon- he wanted to shout, but realized that it was entirely futile at this point.

It was keeping him alive, wasn’t it?

He tilted his head slightly, eyes meeting the piercing blue that belonged to the killer as he pressed himself forward, pulling the killer down by the shoulders, surprised as he felt his body being penetrated, something entirely foreign to the lookout that caused a shrill sound to escape from his barely parted lips. The serial killer merely chuckled, slamming his hips forward in a single rapid motion that had the lookout’s back arching as he wrestled with giving into the sensations that were beginning to become pleasant- the killer’s mouth on his neck, hands rubbing the flesh of his back- or to do nothing but scream, try and fight the killer off…

He stayed entirely still, nails digging into thin and pale flesh as the serial killer pulled back languidly, the lookout rigid beneath him as the killer continued to open him up, stretching his body out as he let a small mewl escape his mouth, followed by a curse as the serial killer brushed against the slight indentation of his body, his hips rolling forward instinctively, mouth slipping open to groan at the feeling.

The serial killer’s thrusts were speeding now, punctuating his body with short movements that had the lookout grasping at something- anything- clinging to the killer’s back with strung out words he couldn’t even make out intelligibly as the serial killer’s cock dug deeper into his body, slamming into something that caused the lookout to see white momentarily- why was he enjoying this? He wasn’t supposed to enjoy it…wasn’t supposed to enjoy the serial killer…much less sex with the psychotic man. He found himself bucking his hips up desperately, forcing the serial killer’s length deeper into his body as his tongue ran over cracked lips, one hand threaded through the serial killer’s hair as the other man defiled him.

The lookout didn’t know exactly when it happened, white spilling over his stomach, the serial killer still rutting against him, slower than before, until he felt the other man’s release- sickly, of course, now unable to deny that he’d had sex with the notorious killer.

He lay back on the sheets, face flushed as the serial killer’s hand brushed over his hair gently, fingers tracing the side of the lookout’s face before he closed his eyes, pulling his jacket up from the floor, reaching into the left side pocket where he’d stored his knife.

Of course it hadn’t worked. The lookout wasn’t sure that anything would have- the serial killer was too crazy, too unrefined.

“Please…not yet…” he whispered to the serial killer. “I just…I just want to live.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” the serial killer replied, a fake frown playing across his rather handsome features. “I can’t leave any loose ends lying around.” The lookout’s hand brushed over the tall man’s gently, grabbing for it as he shut his eyes tightly. “You’re a very good actor, considering,” the serial killer added, the light praise causing the lookout to flush once more, before releasing the man’s hand, baring his neck.

“I’d like you to slit my throat,” he gasped.

“It’ll take longer,” the serial killer replied, uninterested.

“Not if you do it right,” the lookout commented, the serial killer’s blade resting on the light skin of his neck. “Please.”

He was surprised as the serial killer leaned in to press a light kiss to his lips, barely noting how the man tasted of nothing more than blood and sweat, before the tip of the blade was dragging through his neck, flesh splitting apart lightly as the serial killer stared into dark eyes without a single ounce of remorse. The lookout wasn’t surprised to see that he felt nothing- that it meant nothing.

It hadn’t meant anything to him either.


End file.
